


Hearth

by Et_Gemitus_Mortis



Category: Game of Thrones (Telltale Games), Game of Thrones (Video Game 2014)
Genre: Comfort Sex, F/M, I need to put this somewhere, It's for Comfort, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, One of the many many crackships I've got, Shameless Trash honestly, idk man just don't hurt me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-17 20:29:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5884288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Et_Gemitus_Mortis/pseuds/Et_Gemitus_Mortis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Darkness of the Great Hall, a Widow weeps over her losses and a Knight prepares for all out War. Knowledge of Dying, Sick, or simply Lost— They seek comfort only few would understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ignited

“It’s getting worse, m'lady,” The rough voice startled her. Where there had previously been silence, except for the crackling of the flames and logs in the hearth of the Great Hall— there was the heavy footfalls of the Warrior, Royland Degore, and the rough timbre of his words. Emerald hues lifted from the flames, trailing to the Sentinel. Still proud, even under the circumstances, as her House was beginning to fall apart around her. Her husband and two of her beloved boys were gone. It was surprising to see the man, who had been preparing nonstop since their return from the port town; and yet, he looked pale and withdrawn. Ill, almost. Royland came to a halt a few feet away, looking into the burning hearth, before his shoulders dropped. “I’m not sure of the future, m'lady; but I don’t believe we’re prepared enough to take an assault from the Whitehills.”

"Yet, I have hope, Ser.” There was an audible scoff from the Knight— disbelief or the general cynicism that he often held, she wasn’t quite sure. Royland had always been hard to read. Elissa fixed him with a glare, chin tipped up slightly. She still had faith that they could pull through, somehow. Her own anger burned in her soul; a ball of ice sitting in her stomach. She knew his words rung truth though, due to Duncan’s betrayal— the Whitehills knew _everything_. She had seen what had become of Duncan after Rodrik and Royland’s return. Both had been furious but it had been the Sentinel who had laid his hands on Duncan and he had suffered. She had always known that Asher and the Knight had been close. Her son had practically clung to him when Gregor was busy with Rodrik, he had sought attention and Royland had always provided it for Asher, in the man’s ever reluctant, tired ways. Part of her still desperately clung to the friendship she thought Duncan and her  shared, yet she wanted Duncan dead for all he had done. “You are an accomplished Military Leader and I know you have done all you can to prepare us for battle.”

Royland stared at her with dark brown eyes, his jaw worked in the familiar way that she knew he was thinking, carefully. He had always been cordial around her but he was tired. She could see it in the furrow of his brows and his posture, straight as a board, except he looked worn by the endless work he had been doing for their House. His pale look from nights working on battle plans and gathering men to aid them. He worked just as hard as any other man but he was past his limit. The Sentinel turned his attention back to the fire, lips pursed together in a line. He hid himself well with his rage, but Elissa knew there was more going on with Royland, more than what he tended to show. Duncan was wrong when he had called him witless; he saw the world in a different way than him, seeing things that others could not from his own experience. His voice was low and heavy, thick with anger. “Hope doesn’t win battles, m'lady. Skill does, but numbers help, and Ludd has the greater force.” The name of their Whitehill enemy was spat, distaste and anger seemed to grow tenfold.

“I have faith in you, ser, that you will not fail us.” The laughter that followed her words was unkind and harsh; cold as a winter’s morning. Royland shifted, arms crossed tight against black armor; intricately made and held in a careful regard with him. She had never once seen him without his armor, perhaps out of paranoia or his need to feel safe, but the look was fearsome on him— along with the carved silver sigil of a forgotten house and the two final pieces that were missing from him now. He hid his past and often she had found herself curious. But she held her tongue, as he seemed content to have the rumors and stories told instead. The biting anger in him seemed to form in him, for a noise scratched the back of his throat, and came with the feeling of failure. “Is there something amusing to you?”

“Faith is a foolish notion; I have failed this family twice now.” And then she could see a glimpse of the man, the real him; a crack in his façade. His face fell. But anger seemed to quickly take its place and he worked quietly to try and make it subside. His fingers twitching and lips moving wordlessly, recalling something to himself. But she knew his fury was often hard to break, for his anger was fueled by some invisible match. He was often like a fire thought put out but which raged back to life as the embers caught tinder once more— out of control and unstoppable —like a Wildfire. Emerald hues watched him closely; seeing the tic form on his neck and his jaw clench, teeth scraping painfully over each other. And the growl was bit back, but his words still sounded in a forced calm. “I’ve already lost one family, I don’t want to lose another.”

“You are not bound to us by blood, Royland, but we have always seen you as family.” There was a cold that seemed to settle around them, even as the fire crackled and licked hungrily at the logs nearby. It emanated from Royland, pushing away all the warmth that came from the flames. She reached out slowly to touch his hand, the feeling light on rough skin. He seemed to startle by it, brown orbs flickering to her with a shattered look as anger fled from him. _He was in pain_. And she knew that he cared greatly for all of them; she had seen what losing Ethan had done to him and with Asher gone, too; he seemed to deliberately hold his anger as a force around him, becoming a fearsome beast instead of the man he was. Hiding away all else. But the umber gaze she looked into was nearly empty, a tentative step forward, so followed her words, to offer comfort. And what she said was complete truth. “You are a Forrester, even if not by name.” Her children loved him like no other did and he seemed better for it— for when he first came to Ironrath, he was nothing but his own anger and often wrapped in solitude.

“And I thank you for that, m'lady. I don’t think—” He broke off. His voice had been surprisingly soft, low, but it lacked anything else except sadness. He never revealed much about himself. Everyone only knew what they saw from him and his actions; most perceived him as someone to be wary of. To not turn to when he was angry— But she had seen him with her children. And she knew that he was more than he let himself be. Her sons and daughters meant the world to him and he must have felt like he was failing them for letting so much happen to them. The toll on him was becoming apparent to her. Strong and incapable of failing, but that illusion had been shattered by Ramsay Snow and the Whitehills. With Ethan and the attacks on Rodrik. With the most recent loss of Asher… “I _know_ that I would not have been the man I am now if your children hadn’t dragged me into this family.”

Silence permeated.

“ _I have failed your boys._ "

Royland had moved, facing her, his eyes held a pleading look. Was he looking for forgiveness from her? He did not need it, but even she supposed, that he felt like he had to. He was in as much pain as she was. How had she not seen it? No, she knew— It was his anger, his darkness. The righteous fury he carried and seemed to be at all times. It masked the pain that Royland held. Never had he broken down, not around her nor others; except at the burnings… Her heart pitied him. Yet, she knew that he hated to be seen as piteous, she did. Royland was perceived as a strong man, unstoppable and unbreakable. What was expected from him other than his stable show? If he broke, it would be the end of him. And it was with trepidation that she moved, closing the hair-breathed length between them. It was swift and ended just as it came. No, she had not meant to kiss him— a hope that had fluttered in her, quickly squashed with its accompanied feelings. They were too similar in this. Both had lost too much that they cared for.

And when her green regard lifted upward to meet the burnt earthen of his— her breath was quick to leave her. Amidst the pain and the sorrow; there was a greedier look, a darker scene. **Lust**. She knew the look well. Seen so often in other men who had looked upon her at Feasts or at other Houses. She never had seen it from him though, he carefully concealed himself with emotions that turned many others away, even her. The darker emotions that came from loss and killing. So, her surprise gripped her to be still. He was quiet and she watched as his tongue traced over his lips, as if tasting her still. His eyes were hazy, a look muddied by the warring emotions within him. She moved to speak but words were futile— The Sentinel pressed forward, stealing her voice.

No, This hadn’t been at all what she had expected it to be.


	2. Burning

Armor laid forgotten in disgraced heaps on the wooden floor; a forest green dress laid in a delicate pile. There was silence in the hall, except for the crackle of the hearth. There was a repressed feeling that had been ignited in him when she had offered that tentative kiss. No, this wasn’t something he had always wanted nor ever entertained— She had _always_ been Gregor’s. Though, he was most surprised that she allowed him, that she didn’t wrest him away. They both were hurting and they both hid it the best they could, only revealing themselves when they were well and truly alone. They sought comfort and they found it.

She stood in front of him; both were bare to each other. His hands trailed over silk soft skin, callous pads soft upon her figure, in fear of breaking her. Her touches were just as soft, careful, tracing over the scars he carried with him. His upper body, he knew, was like a twisted canvas. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him; her lips were soft as she whispered against his skin, “You confuse me to my wit’s end.”

And he softly chuckled, “We are well matched, then, as you confound me at every turn. But more than that, you _terrify_ me.”

His skin felt like it was crawling, but here, it was much easier to deal with. Elissa brushed her cheek against his chest; his heart he knew thumped harshly and wildly against his chest. It was completely at odds with how he acted. Cold and distant. Ingrained instinct after so many years, but his heart would always betray him— it was the only giveaway of the creeping regret. His fingers dug into the skin of her shoulders, as her lips ran across his collarbone, before his hands slid down her arms.

He felt exposed. Extremely so. And he fought to keep himself from pulling away when her finger brushed the edge of his jaw. “I don’t mean to terrify you.”

“I am aware of that. It does not make it any less true.” He grumbled.

He watched her with concentrated focus as she traced his jaw, but he said nothing. “Don’t let it get out that the most feared Master-at-Arms is afraid of me. It would devastate your reputation."

“ _Impudence_.”

He spoke with all the acid he could muster. It didn’t take much. Too long had he been this way. A cynical man with an increasingly acerbic tongue, meant to spit poison. Yet his hands contrasted his words, they traced over soft, ivory skin, they pressed her against him and skimmed along her body— still, he was in fear he would break her, like glass, but his confidence had grown.

Royland had many secrets and he kept them all close to the vest. His most embarrassing secret, his most cliché secret, was one that had been cropping up since he'd been a child: He wanted to be loved. _That was it_. The big, bad man had a very soft place in his heart. The **monster** just wanted to be _wanted_. She leaned back from him slightly, her emerald eyes held mischief. “It’s a terrible character flaw. Along with bossiness and a tendency to leap before looking.”

His face twisted slightly. “You forgot stubborn.” Yet there was amusement that hid in his eyes with a faint curve to his lips.

She brushed her lips against his, her amusement was bright in her eyes and in the curl of her mouth. “That’s not a flaw,” she murmured.

“No,” he agreed, when she pulled back. “I suppose when dealing with me, stubborn is probably a virtue.” His voice had dropped, a rumble, rough.

She trailed a finger along the pale exposed skin, ruffling the fine dark hairs that swirled across his pectoral muscles. “Royland.” Her voice wavered.

And he understood. Her courage had ran out. She knew not how to go further. So, it was he who had to take that further step forward. He’d be lying to himself if he attributed the slight shake of his hands to an old war wound. The seconds that ticked by were like an eternity. But he dipped his head and pressed against her. She had been expecting something more. There had been anticipation lined in her shoulders but he was gentle with their contact, near hesitant. And Elissa returned his gentle pressure. This time, he pressed a little more, the kiss a bit firmer but still soft, still gentle— waiting for her.

But he felt a smile curve at her lips. _Another_. Which caused him to pull away, “Why are you grinning?”

She looked faintly abashed at his words but her smile was clear, bright as ever. It overpowered his darker countenance. And it only grew wider, brighter. “Because you’re never what people expect you to be.”

A brow rose on impulse, out of sheer habit. Incredulous of her words. But Elissa merely took it in stride, her smile gentle in its glow, her eyes ever warm. “It’s a good thing.” She clarified within a murmur, another kiss sealed.

His nod was faint in response. It was barely a tip, a small tic if one didn’t know him. His hand trailed up from her hip, the other remained loose but curled around her waist. She was smooth, soft— every bit of a counter to him, who was rough and jagged, covered in scars. As his callus fingers flowed up, she gasped and arched into him, into the sensation. “Hm, _sensitive_.”

She took in a quick breath and that same hand pressed her flushed against him. He knew a lot from his silences, from watching others endlessly. His knowledge of the world around him was what kept him alive, his perception a tool used in many areas of his life. And he knew several damning things about others. Royland bent his head, pressing his lips to a spot below her left ear, breath hot against her skin. “You seem to have a fascination with hands.”

It was her response that made him smirk slightly, her body wavered, her knees buckled. Yet she was quick to steady herself and he helped her along with his hand still pressed into her back.

“Just _imagine_ what my hands could do to you.” One hand, in question, languidly slid up her spine. His voice insistent. Another shiver was felt running up her spine.

Her eyes had fallen close from the sensation. “Royland.” His name was a quiet gasp from her lips.

A deep rumble of laughter left him and he watched as she opened her eyes, his mouth quirked into a lazy grin.

Rising up, she pressed her lips up under his chin, kissing along his collarbone, looking dazed but mustering enough to look as if she was retaliating at his laugh.

He groaned softly, his other hand sliding up her spine to join the first.

She nuzzled into him and licked a path across his collarbone. “Strong, capable hands,” she murmured against his skin, looking decidedly pleased with herself at finding the words she wanted to say through the hazy look upon her features.

One hand left her back to tilt her head back. He kissed her then, harder, his mouth pressing hers to open. Her voice swelled against him.

Yet, soon, he was pulling back again, even as Elissa made a small noise of protest at his action. “When you are ready.” He mused, soft and husky, breaths heavy in the back of his throat.

Bare, rough skin against bare, silken skin and mind numbing kisses; it was during a small lull, as they both caught their breaths once more, that Elissa finally responded to him, “I am.” was her whisper, eyes dark and half closed, looking up at him with a mix of emotions.

One of his fingers brushed against the top of her breasts before sliding its way down in a slow path towards her hip. “I will endeavor to make the experience as pleasurable as possible.”

She arched up into him, pushing up into his touch. Elissa let out a pleased, if somewhat nervous laugh at him. She stretched upwards, she gave him several lingering kisses as his fingers played along her body. “You’ve never been a man to do anything in half-measures.”

He trailed his fingertips along her skin as he marveled at her, that nagging regret briefly rearing its head again. She was beautiful, she always had been, and yet he felt like he would sully her.

“Kiss me?” Her words were breathless and soft.

“You enjoy the kissing,” Leaning down, he placed a teasing kiss on her lips, before nuzzling along her jawline to her ear. “There will be more kissing.” He breathed, lips curving into a small smirk.

Then, slowly, he spread his hand wide and pushed against her. She took a step backwards. Royland rewarded her with another kiss and then he began to lower her, slow and careful as he moved her with precise ease. He swallowed her startled “ _Oh_ ” with a deeper kiss as her back hit the wooden floor.

Her eyes never seemed to leave him for a moment, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, giving her a nervous look— as if she, too, was feeling a degree of regret. She was breathing heavily, the movement caused her breasts to rise and fall in a slow rhythm, almost hypnotic in its fashion. Royland bent down, and he was straddled her, his hands and legs bracketed her body, enclosing her and drawing her closer to him.

She hummed her approval. And he swept down, latching onto her lips again, this time a little harder, a little more aggressive… Rougher than what he wanted to be with her. She responded by snaking her arms up and around his neck, arching up into the space between them so that her weight pulled him down on top her, it drove him further.

She was cooler to the touch and it sent his blood pounding through his body, opposed to his heat she felt smoother and softer. When she opened her legs, he dropped down between her thighs with a hidden noise in the back of his throat.

It was she who gasped beneath him, her head fell back as her chest thrust up and forward against him. He took the opportunity presented. Sliding down her body, he kept his weight pressed against her. He proceeded to lick and kiss a broad path across her skin. Shifting slightly, Royland rasped the slight stubble of his cheek against her left nipple and heard her give a deep-throated hum again.

Nibbling his way up the slope of her breast he teased the very tip of her nipple with his tongue until she bucked beneath him.

“Royla—”

She never managed his whole name as he closed his mouth over her nipple, catching it carefully between his teeth and adding firm strokes of his tongue to the flat top of it. She made the noise again when he caught her knee and pulled it high up along his hip. He was becoming rather fond of them; soft, elegant still— she was still a lady in every essence of the word and station.

Her head rolled from side to side on the floor, whether in reaction to his actions he wasn’t quite sure. The haze in his head refused to let him believe it was anything more than that. He turned his attention to her other breast, he caught the nipple and worried it with teeth and tongue as he had done the other. It wasn’t long before he heard her again, her gasps and mews of pleasure rising louder in his ears.

He let one hand come up to cup her breast, fingers light and tickling against her skin. When she was once again moving against him, his hand roamed downward. He briefly clasped her hip, pulling her body tight against him and thrusting into the vee of her thighs, letting her feel him and her own reactions as they slid together. Her nails sunk into his shoulders, arms wrapped tight around him.

She shuddered beneath as he drug his thumb up over her hip and down across the soft skin of her inner thigh. Another noise rose from her lips as he continued the movement across her covered folds.

He rubbed his thumb across the linen fabric again, pressing harder and using the friction of the cloth to drive her higher. He shifted further down her body, dropping a kiss every so often along the way, and he murmured wicked things against her skin. Everything he was feeling, how she tasted, what he was going to do to her.

He paused when he reached her thighs and she made no move to stop him when he slid the linen off her legs. “Exquisite.”

“Royland…”

He ran rough fingers over the damp curls at the apex of her thighs, before he spread both palms across the curve of her thighs, he pressed outward until she slowly opened up to him.

He closed the last few inches between them, he licked her open in a broad sweep of his tongue. “Yes, exquisite, indeed.” His tongue curled and he searched until he found the small knot that he knew would drive her over the edge.

He alternated between flicking his tongue and applying delicate sucking pressure, he drove her upwards until she was writhing and bucking against him, his hands carefully pressed against her to keep her from bucking into him.

Finally, he lifted his head, he gazed up the long plane of her body with a sated sigh. Royland replaced his mouth with his fingers, reveling in the way she twisted and arched even now. “Such a varied vocabulary you have,” he crooned. “Such filthy words from such a proud lady.”

She let out a particularly loud moan and he rewarded her by dipping his head to her again, moving his fingers down and into her, setting up a constant, strong rhythm.

Her moans were constant now, rising higher and louder, punctuated with half formed words around him. Briefly, in the back of his head, he remembered where they were and smothered her with another kiss. Her hands abruptly left his shoulders to dig fruitlessly into wood beside her thighs and He knew she was close. “ _Break for me_ ,” he rumbled against her flesh and break she did. Her back bowed up to him, she twisted hard beneath his weight, her legs jerking as a hum rose into a high-pitched whine.

He rode out every twitch and every buck of her body offered, using his long fingers to draw out the spasms that wracked her body with ease. He only let up when she subsided into a series of tiny involuntary muscle twitches and untangled himself slightly from her, laying on his side with a small, lazy smile on his lips again.

Elissa rolled easily into his arms, her body heaving still from the high it was slowly coming down from. She tucked her head into the hollow where his shoulder met his chest, and he waited for her to stir while he fiercely ignored the demands of his own body.

“I . . ” She paused, turning her face almost fully against his chest and dropped a small kiss there. “What does one say after that?”

He rumbled a small laugh. “Thank you. That was nice. _Perhaps_ , Royland, you are extraordinarily talented.”

She snorted in amusement and then dropped another kiss onto his chest. “Thank you. That was _very_ nice. And, Royland, you are extraordinarily talented.”

“Impudence again.”

She hummed her agreement and he moved to say more but he became more taken with her wandering fingers than her reply. Her touch was light and tickling as her fingers traced across his scarred chest, still soft upon him as if her touch would elicit pain. When her thumb brushed across his left nipple he lost a bit of his careful composure, a faint shudder running across his skin.

“You enjoyed that?” The question was somewhat hesitant, she sounded so unsure of herself.

Knowing Elissa, he put aside his word games and gave her a direct answer. “Did you enjoy what I did to you?”

He watched her cheeks heat up in response, it was a delightful rose that spread downward from her cheeks to her chest, but she met his eyes squarely as she always had. “Yes.”

“I’m not as sensitive as you are but the touch is nice.”

She raised a brow at him, before bending down to lave the flat of her tongue across his nipple. He sighed in encouragement and that was all she seemed to need as her lips and tongue soon began to explore the expanse of his chest and ribs and all his scars, her hair fell down around her face to tickle his sides with teasing touches. She stopped only when she came to the thick line of brown hairs that trailed down below the waist of his braies.

Once again, her eyes came up to boldly meet his, her smile one of mischievous intent. He couldn’t help but chuckle at that look. Raising his hips, he let the invitation stand. Her fingertips were hot against his skin, she slid his braies down and off his legs.

She didn’t quite meet his eyes this time. He caught her hand. Slowly, so as not to startle or alarm her, he placed it flat against his chest, his own over hers. With deliberate movements, he drug her hand down his chest and across his stomach.

Her breathing had increased, becoming fast and more shallow. He pressed slightly harder as her fingers passed through the trail of hair on his lower abdomen, but finally wrapped her hand around the base of his cock.

“I —”

He didn’t let her finish, simply moving her hand up, squeezing and releasing to show her what he wanted.

Her emerald eyes were wide and her lower lip was caught between her teeth again, but Elissa learned his body. She always had been a quick study and it wasn’t long before her other hand joined the first.

He struggled to be quiet, but it had been too long for him, this they both knew, and he was wound tight from everything they had done. He couldn’t contain the groan as her fingers danced over him. Her thumb brushed against the underside of the head, and he thrusted up into her hand, his movement jerky and uncontrolled. She did it again and his hips followed her movements of their own accord once more. He reached out to suddenly take hold of her wrist, his eyes half-lidded and his need greater than he could handle, before he pulled her away and tugged her close again.

But now, he was touching her again, he was nestled up between her legs. Every so often he would shift and slide against the wetness there and he wanted to let go— what control he still had kept him from doing just so.

He braced himself over her on one arm, his other hand clutching at her hip. He’d touched her intimately that night, something he’d never expected nor wanted to, but it had happened and he didn’t feel that burning regret anymore. Maybe it was because she accepted it, that she hadn’t fought him away. Her arms wrapped around him again. So freely, Elissa was letting him be here... She locked her gaze to his as once again he brought her thigh up and over his hip, opening her to him.

“Relax,” he murmured into her ear and she shuddered against him.

She seemed to try but it seemed hard for her to do so when he covered every bit of her. He lapsed into a momentary silence, hesitating for mere seconds— did he really want to continue this? Would it lead to a mistake? His heart thumped wildly against his ribcage, his breaths harsh and heavy as he moved above her.

“Look at me, Elissa.”

When she did, a hum of approval left him and his palm moved down from her hip to curve around her bottom, changing the angle of her hips. There was pressure, tight and slick, she shifted towards him and a soft hiss left him.

He watched her eyes close, her lips parted in a gasp, only to find himself moving down to capture her lips, drinking her in.

He thrusted forward.

“Oh!”

The gasp in his ears made him stop; he stilled and concern took over for the moment, eyes searching for hers. “Elissa? Are you all right?” Royland continued to watch her; she looked like she was struggling. It had been a long time for her, he understood this. Elissa had never been anything but faithful to Gregor. And slowly, she began unclenching her body and relaxing her arms and legs. As she relaxed, a brief smile, rare and small, formed upon his lips. Her eyes finally opened. “Hey…” His voice still remained soft to her ears. Finally, Royland realized he was seated deep within her body. The concern was overrode with a more primal need. And as he began to wrestle with his body, she shifted upwards against him.

“ _Easy_ ,” he hissed. “Slow.”

His voice became strained to his own ears, teeth clenched as he tried to keep his wits about him.

“Slow,” he repeated. Only this time, the word were accompanied by a shift of his hips.

“Slow,” Elissa repeated, beginning to follow the rhythm as he set a slow in and out pace that soon wrung long moans from her.

With his eyes closed, his jaw was clenched and his brow furrowed in concentration, Royland set to a steady pace— his strokes long and slow but building as the moments passed. She felt amazing around him, warm and tight, but he was trying as best as he could to make this pleasurable for her. She hadn’t touched another man or another person since the War of the Five Kings had begun.

A hand snaked behind his head, nimble fingers tangling in his hair, pulling his head backwards until his throat was exposed. A moment of animal instinct demanded he pull away. But a hum of pleasure entered his ears, and she latched onto his throat, kissing and sucking at his skin.

His eyes clenched tighter, he was listening to her beneath him. Her earlier moans of pleasure were reduced to just the occasional gasp or hum. It was frustrating for him to notice.

His careful control was quickly lost as she pulled his head backwards in order to plant sucking kisses across his throat. With a growl, he shifted, rising up higher over her to increase the length and power of his thrusts.

“—Elissa.” He felt like he yelled it but he knew himself better than that, it was a whisper into the fading light of the fireplace.

As he came down on top of her, Elissa enveloped him with her arms and legs, wrapping him up in her warmth. But he wasn’t quite done yet, not with her, as he pulled out of her with a groan, he slid backwards.

“Roy— Oh.”

Whatever she’d been about to ask was lost as he moved back between her legs. He very deliberately began grinding against her again. He had hardened again somewhat, and now he watched her face with a new sort of concentration. He moved down, nibbling on the juncture between her neck and shoulders, while one hand slid down between her thighs, which fumbled for a moment before he found what he was looking for. His other hand stroked himself back to full hardness— Elissa let out the first real moan of pleasure as his fingers began working on her clitoris, experimentally trying to find what got her off best. He felt his frown slip away after her moan, which he considered a success in his actions, she finally seemed to truly be in it. Royland continued to nibble and suck on her neck, before he moved to the other side of her face to lick behind her ear, desperate to try to get another visible reaction out of her.

And she obliged him, her moans and pants wanton as his fingers moved expertly against her. He was grinding against her, and then—

“Oh gods,” she moaned, when he entered her again. “Oh, yes…”

His strokes this time were slower, and he made sure they hit deeper. His hands were braced against the ground to keep himself balanced, before he moved upright, hands gripping at her waist. His hair hung limp, strands falling against sweat slick skin. Breathes came in puffs. His eyes traced over her face; mapping out the soft look of content— the curve of her lips, the half-lidded emerald gaze, the strands of dark gold haloed around her. He wouldn’t deny himself; Elissa Forrester had always been beautiful. He’d admit that he had been envious of Gregor at times, he had what he could not— love and a family. It was something to envy, because he had lost his own and he never had the chance to begin anew. He never would. Head bent slightly, lightning darted up his spine, bumps rose on his skin; beads of sweat trailed down scarred flesh—.

Several times, he stopped moving, to keep from coming early, while his fingers quickened and became more practiced and more knowledgeable as they played with her body. She shuddered beneath him, her walls squeezing him tightly in short, uncontrolled spasms, and carefully, he watched her face as it changed. When he could see her getting close, he would start moving again, changing the rhythm of his strokes and it caused her to cry out both in pleasure and protest. Yet he knew he couldn’t keep himself like this; eventually, his pace quickened, returning to the point where he was pounding near-insensate inside her, but this time, Elissa was the first to tremble and let go.

Her body shook and quivered with her orgasm. And He finished moments after her, lightning driving up and down his spine as his release came, the ride through it all making it hard to hold back the growl in his throat. This time, he pulled out almost immediately, leaning in to examine her face closely. She, too, looked weary from it all and her half-open gaze full of bliss. He flopped down to enjoy his own moments of quiet, eyes half-shut with lazy satiation.

Elissa moved her fingers to wrap in his hair, lifting his head up to bring him closer again, her lips taking his in an indolent kiss before she let go after a moment.

His arm curled around her slightly, pulling her into his chest, and Elissa relaxed into his side, her head resting against his chest. Royland could hear her breathing even out, his fingers dug briefly into her skin; a certain nagging returned to the back of his head, but he pushed through it. Whatever came, in time, this wouldn’t matter soon enough— either they perished in flames or they survived by some odd miracle. His heart he could hear thumping in his own chest, every thick pound, a steady _thump_ , _thump_ , _thump_. The fire in the Hearth had faded with less fuel over time.

Royland let out a small sigh, quieting his persistent thoughts, and let the familiar black inkiness wash over him.


	3. Embers

He wasn’t Gregor. No man could truly replace her beloved; Winter, who had left her dancing alone in the endless figure eight— Eternity. But he was gentle. Something she never expected, _never saw_ , from him. She had seen him with Talia and Rodrik, but never had she seen him _this_ vulnerable. Royland had more scars than she thought possible for a man to carry, many looked as if they could have— _should have_ — killed him. Though, he was still here; as if he fought the whole world to continue to live in a place he saw in shades of black with little light. Delicate fingers traced over each scar with feather light touches, mapping them out in her head.

He surprised her by reaching out and pulling her to him, nestling her against the hard plane of his body. He was such a contradiction – _push_ , pull, _want_ , don’t want. “You confuse me to my wit’s end,” she murmured against his chest.

He let out a soft chuckle. “We are well matched, then, as you confound me at every turn. But more than that, you _terrify_ me.”

Brushing her cheek against his chest, she felt his heartbeat thumping hard in his chest, it’s wild rhythm so at odds with his seemingly distant and calm exterior. Turning her head slightly, she brushed her lips across the bare sliver of skin at his collarbone and felt his fingers bite into her shoulders before sliding down her arms.

Daring greatly, she reached up and brushed the edge of his jaw. “I don’t mean to terrify you.”

“I am aware of that. It does not make it any less true.”

He watched her with concentrated focus as she traced his jaw and she shivered under his heated regard. “Don’t let it get out that the most feared Master-at-arms is afraid of me. It would devastate your reputation.”

“ _Impudence_.”

The word was said with all the heated disdain of Royland Degore at his most acidic, but it was in direct contrast to the warm press of his rough hands as they skimmed along her body.

She leaned back from him slightly so she could see him. “It’s a terrible character flaw. Along with bossiness and a tendency to leap before looking.”

His expression was severe, but she caught the laughter in his eyes and the curve of his lips. “You forgot stubborn.”

She brushed her lips against his in reward for playing along with her silliness. “That’s not a flaw,” she murmured.

“No,” he agreed, when she pulled back. “I suppose when dealing with me, stubborn is probably a virtue.” His voice had dropped to a deep rumble, the words raspy as they flowed over her.

She trailed a finger along the pale exposed skin, ruffling the fine dark hairs that swirled across his pectoral muscles.

“Royland.” She didn’t know how to say what she wanted, to make him understand that she’d gone just about to the limits that her courage was going to take her at this moment, but he seemed to understand, as one large hand ran up her back.

From his expression, she expected fierce. Something more along the lines of the toe-curling kisses that she knew, the ones that left her breathless and half-dazed. She was surprised when the first brush of his lips against hers was soft. She returned the gentle pressure and was rewarded with a second kiss, this one a little firmer, but still astounding in its gentleness. It melted Elissa down to her toes. Any hesitation or fear she’d had about taking this step melted away.

He must have felt the smile that curved her lips. “Why are you grinning?” he asked, pulling away just far enough to look down on her.

Her smile widened. “Because you’re never what people expect you to be.”

One brow rose up in question. She kissed him again. “It’s a good thing,” she clarified.

He seemed to accept that as the hand around her back shifted, pulling up further on her back. The hand that had been loosely holding her hip now flowed up her spine. Feeling the warm skin of his hands slide up her back caused her to gasp and arch into the sensation.

“Hmm, _sensitive_.”

She sucked in another ragged breath as that hand pressed her against the long length of him, the skin of his chest hot. His lips moved down to a soft spot below her left ear, before he continued, his breath hot against her skin. “You seem to have a fascination with hands.”

Her knees buckled.

The hand that had still been splayed across his chest slid up to clasp his shoulder as she sought to hold herself steady. The other wound behind his neck to tangle in his hair, as Royland used his most dangerous weapon – his voice and his words – in a way Elissa had never imagined.

“Just _imagine_ what my hands can do to you,” that insistent voice rumbled, as the hand in question smoothed up her spine. _Damn him!_ She couldn’t help the shiver that rocked her body. He had always been perceptive, he knew of all the little things. His hands weren’t smooth or soft, but battle-scarred and calloused. She could feel every rough spot as they moved across her skin but they were also sure and knowledgeable.

“Royland.” His name was a quiet gasp.

A deep rumble of laughter and Elissa realized that her eyes had fallen closed. Forcing them open, she found Royland staring at her, lips quirked in a lazy smile, his eyes so dark she felt she could fall into them.

Rising up, she pressed her lips up under his chin, kissing along his collarbone. He groaned softly, his other hand sliding up her spine to join the first in a trail of fire.

 _Words_ , her scattered wit insisted, _give him the words_. She was Elissa Forrester. She could do words. She was good with words. _If only his fingertips would stop_ , she thought, then dismissed the idea. She definitely didn’t want those hands and fingers to stop.

 _Words_ , her brain insisted again.

Nuzzling, Elissa licked a path across his collarbone. “Strong, capable hands,” she agreed, pleased at finding the words she wanted through the haze of her tumbling thoughts.

One hand left her back to tilt her head back. He kissed her then, hard, his mouth pressing hers to open. She groaned against him in appreciation, her tongue tangling hotly with his.

All too soon he was pulling back again, even as she made a small noise of protest. “When you are ready.”

Bare skin against bare skin and mind numbing kisses and Elissa could think of nothing else. It was during a small lull, as they both caught their breaths, “I am.”

One of his fingers brushed along the tops of her breasts, before meandering its way down. “I will endeavor to make the experience as pleasurable as possible.”

She arched up, unable to do anything but push up into that tantalizing touch. Elissa let out a pleased, if somewhat nervous laugh. Leave it to him to sound so formal at a time like this. Stretching upward, she gave him several lingering kisses as his fingers played along her body. “You’ve never been a man to do anything in half-measures.”

He trailed his fingertips along her skin as he marveled at her.

“Kiss me?” Her words were breathless and soft.

“You enjoy the kissing.” Leaning down he placed a teasing kiss on her lips, before nuzzling along her jawline to her ear. “There will be more kissing,” he breathed.

Then slowly he spread his hand wide and pushed. She took a step backwards. Royland rewarded her action with another kiss. And then he began to lower her, slow and careful as he moved her with precise ease. He swallowed her startled “Oh” with a deeper kiss as her back hit the cool floor.

Her eyes were focused on his hand and the erection straining the cloth of his braies, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She was breathing heavily, the movement causing her breasts to rise and fall in an almost hypnotic fashion. Within a moment, he was straddling her, his hands and legs bracketing her body.

Elissa hummed her approval. Sweeping down, he latched onto her lips again, this time a little harder, a little more aggressive. She responded by snaking her arms up and around his neck, arching up into the space between them so that her weight pulled him down on top her.

His heat scalded her and sent her blood pounding through her body, but nothing could have prepared her when she opened her legs, and Royland dropped down between her thighs.

Elissa gasped beneath him, her head thrown back as her chest thrust up and forward. He took the opportunity presented. Sliding down her body, he kept his weight pressed against her. He proceeded to lick and kiss a broad path across her skin. Shifting slightly, he rasped the slight stubble of his cheek against her left nipple and heard herself give a deep-throated hum again.

Nibbling his way up the slope of her breast he teased the very tip of her nipple with his tongue until Elissa bucked beneath him in her desire for a firmer touch.

“Royla… ”

She never managed his whole name as he closed his mouth over her nipple, catching it carefully between his teeth and adding firm strokes of his tongue to the flat top of it. She made the noise again when he caught her knee and pulled it high up along his hip.

Her head shook from side to side on the floor, whether in reaction to his actions she wasn’t sure. She saw him turn his attention to her other breast, he caught the nipple and worried it with teeth and tongue as he had done the other. It wasn’t long before she rewarded him, her gasps and mews of pleasure rising louder.

He let one hand come up to cup her breast, fingers light and tickling. When she was once again moving against him, She felt his hand roam downward. He briefly clasped her hip, pulling her body tight against him and thrusting into the vee of her thighs, letting her feel him and her own reactions as they slid together. Elissa’s arms tightened, clutching at him as she sunk blunt nails into his shoulders.

She shuddered as he drug his thumb up over her hip and down across the soft skin of her inner thigh. She made another noise as he continued the movement across the damp cloth.

He rubbed his thumb across the linen fabric again, pressing harder and using the friction of the cloth to drive her higher. Shifting further down her body, dropping sucking kisses along the way, he murmured delightfully wicked things against her skin. Everything he was feeling, how she tasted, what he was going to do to her.

He paused when he reached them, but she made no move to stop him when he slid them off her legs. “Exquisite.”

“Royland…”

He ran fingers over the damp curls at the apex of her thighs, before he spread both palms across the curve of her thighs, he pressed outward until she opened to him. Closing the last few inches between them, he licked her open in a broad sweep of his tongue. “Yes, exquisite, indeed.” She felt his tongue curl, searching until he found the small knot that would drive her over the edge.

He alternated between flicking his tongue and applying delicate sucking pressure, he drove her upwards until she was writhing and bucking against him, unconsciously using the strength in her legs to direct him and apply even more pressure where she desired it.

Beneath half-lidded eyes, she saw him lift his head, he gazed up the long plane of her body. His fingers replaced his mouth, seeming to revel in the way she twisted and arched. “Such a varied vocabulary you have,” he crooned. “Such filthy words from such a proud lady.”

She let out a particularly loud moan and he rewarded her by dipping his head to her again, moving his fingers down and into her, setting up a driving rhythm.

Her moans were constant now, rising higher and louder, punctuated with half formed words. Her hands abruptly left his shoulders to dig fruitlessly into wood beside her thighs. “ _Break for me_ ,” he rumbled against her flesh and break she did. Her back bowed up, she twisted hard, her legs jerking as a hum rose into a high-pitched whine that she kept locked behind clenched teeth.

He rode out every twitch and very buck of her body, using his long fingers to draw out the spasms that wracked her body. He only eased up when she subsided into a series of tiny involuntary muscle twitches.

Elissa rolled easily into his arms, her body practically boneless, when he crawled up back to lie beside her. She tucked her head into the hollow where his shoulder met his chest, and waited for her to stir while she felt him fiercely ignoring the demands of his own body.

“I . . ” She paused, turning her face almost fully against his chest and dropped a small kiss there. “What does one say after that?”

He rumbled a laugh. “Thank you. That was nice. _Perhaps_ , Royland, you are extraordinarily talented.”

She snorted in amusement and then dropped another kiss onto his chest. “Thank you. That was _very_ nice. And, Royland, you are extraordinarily talented.”

“Impudence again.”

She hummed her agreement, but Royland seemed more taken with her wandering fingers than her reply. Her touch was light and tickling as her fingers traced across his chest. When her thumb brushed across his left nipple he seemed to lose control of the reaction the touch elicited.

“You enjoyed that?” The question was somewhat hesitant, as she was unsure. Gregor had always taken the lead with her, never allowing her much time to explore his own body. Knowing her, he put aside word games and gave her a direct answer. “Did you enjoy what I did to you?”

She felt her cheeks heat up, a delightful rose that spread downward from her cheeks to her chest, but she met his eyes squarely. “Yes.”

“I’m not as sensitive as you are, but the touch is pleasant.”

She raised a brow at him, before bending down to lave the flat of her tongue across his nipple. He sighed in encouragement and that was all she needed as her lips and tongue soon began to explore the expanse of his chest and ribs, her hair falling down around her face to tickle his side with teasing touches. She stopped only when she came to the thick line of brown hairs that trailed down below the waist of his braies.

Once again, her eyes came up to boldly meet his, her smile one of mischievous intent. He couldn’t help but chuckle at that look. Raising his hips, he let the invitation stand. Fingertips hot against his skin, she slid his braies down and off his legs.

She didn’t quite meet his eyes this time. He caught her hand. Slowly, so as not to startle or alarm her, he placed it flat against his chest, his own over hers. With deliberate movements, he drug her hand down his chest and across his stomach.

Her breathing had increased, becoming fast and more shallow. She was becoming aroused again by touching him. He pressed slightly harder as her fingers passed through the trail of hair on his lower abdomen, but finally wrapped her hand around the base of his cock.

“I-”

He didn’t let her finish, simply moved her hand up, squeezing and releasing to show her what he wanted.

Eyes wide and her lower lip caught between her teeth again, Elissa learned his body. She always had been a quick study and it wasn’t long before her other hand joined the first.

He struggled to be quiet, but it had been too long for him, this she knew, and he was wound tight. He couldn’t contain the groan as her fingers danced over him. Her thumb brushed against the underside of the head, she watched as he thrusted up into her hand, his movement jerky and uncontrolled. She did it again and was pleased when his hips followed her movements of their own accord. Royland took hold of her wrist, that familiar dark look in his eyes, before he pulled her away and tugged her close again.

But now, he was touching her again, that masculine part of him nestled up between her legs. Every so often he would shift and slide against the wetness there and she wanted nothing more than to thrust against that tormenting feeling.

He was braced over her on one arm, his other hand clutching her hip. He’d touched her intimately that night, but now, that touch and the look in his dark eyes was enough to make her bring her hands up around his neck. She locked her gaze to his as once again he brought her thigh up and over his hip, opening her to him.

She knew what was coming and held onto the pleasurable haze he’d created within her.

“Relax,” he murmured into her ear and she shuddered at the feeling of the word flowing across her heated skin.

She tried, but it was so hard when he covered every bit of her. A part of her pleaded with her to stop now, yet another begged for him to continue. She could feel his heartbeat thumping wildly against her chest, and feel the gust of each of his breaths against her neck as he rose a little higher over her.

“Look at me, Elissa.”

When she did, he made a noise of approval and his palm moved down from her hip to curve around her bottom, changing the angle of her hips. There was weight and pressure and she automatically shifted towards the familiar sensation.

_Oh._

Her eyes closed and she gasped, only to find Royland’s lips capturing hers, drinking her in.

_Oh._

He thrusted forward.

“Oh!”

For long moments she knew only the hum in her ears. Gradually, she became aware of Royland’s voice in her ear. The sound was comforting and encouraging. She was used to hearing that voice, so she did her best to follow the words, slowly unclenching her body and relaxing her arms and legs. As she relaxed, a dull ache centered deep within her. It had been a long time since she had felt this; years of practiced celibacy as she waited for Gregor’s return… Winter never came though. But soon another feeling completely overrode the ache. _She could feel him_. Royland was seated deep within her body and just the idea of him being inside her was enough to make her involuntarily shift upwards against him.

“Easy,” he hissed. “Slow.”

His voice sounded strained to her ears, as if maybe he too was amazed at being part of her.

“Slow,” he repeated. Only this time the word was accompanied by a shift of his hips.

“Slow,” she agreed, as she sought to find the rhythm and follow along as he set a slow in and out pace that soon wrung long moans from her.

Soon she was using the leverage of her legs to meet his thrusts. It felt good, but nothing like the pleasure he’d wrung from her earlier with his mouth. She knew that this act could be, _would be_ , that pleasurable. Even now, she could feel small tremors when he moved a certain way that hinted at what could be. She suspected that the ache she could still feel would prevent another orgasm, but she wasn’t concerned. She was too transfixed with the sight of Royland’s face as he moved over her. Eyes closed, his jaw was clenched and his brow furrowed in concentration. He was beautiful to her eyes.

Snaking a hand behind his head, she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling his head backwards until he exposed the pale column of his throat. With a hum of pleasure she latched onto his throat, kissing and sucking at his skin.

His eyes were clenched tight, he was listening to her beneath him. Her earlier moans of pleasure were reduced to just the occasional gasp or hum when he got the angle just right.

His careful control seemed to be lost though as she pulled his head backwards in order to plant sucking kisses across his throat. With a growl, he shifted, rising up higher over her to increase the length and power of his thrusts. And she raised her legs, planting her feet and giving him even wider access.

“Elissa.” The word might have been roared for all that it came out as a ragged whisper. Head thrown back, she watched as he lost the last of his control.

As he came down on top of her, Elissa enveloped him with her arms and legs, a safe cocoon of warmth and woman. But he wasn’t quite done yet, not with her, as he pulled out of her with a groan, he slid backwards.

“Roy— Oh.”

Whatever she’d been about to ask was lost as he moved back between her legs. He very deliberately began grinding against her again. He had hardened again somewhat, and now Elissa could feel it as he deliberately stroked her, watching her face with a new sort of concentration. He moved down, nibbling on the juncture between her neck and shoulders, while one hand slid down between her thighs, fumbling for a moment before he found what he was looking for. His other hand stroked himself back to full hardness— She let out the first real moan of pleasure of this encounter as his fingers began working on her clitoris, experimentally trying to find what got her off best. This seemed to please him, for though his expression became one of difficult, pleasure-distracted focus, the frown disappeared. He continued nibbling and suckling on her neck, before moving to the other side of her face to lick behind her ear, desperately trying to get another visible reaction out of her.

Elissa gratefully obliged, moaning and panting wantonly as sparks of pleasure that had only been random, chance encounters moments ago turned into a consistent build up, a cascade of lightning-shocked water waiting for enough momentum to break through the dam that held it back. He was grinding against her now, and then—

“Oh god,” she moaned, when he entered her again. The angle felt quite good—different, it touched more sensitive places inside her than— _Oh, that felt good_ … “Oh, yes…”

His strokes this time were slower, and they hit deeper, and while the latter made little difference to her, the fact was that now she could really feel him when he moved, truly enjoy the sensations, and his hands were braced against the ground to keep himself balanced, before he moved upright, hands gripping at her waist. The build-up to climax was intense.

Several times, Royland stopped moving, presumably to keep from coming early, while his fingers quickened and became more practiced and more knowledgeable about precisely what worked for her as they played with her body. Elissa found herself shuddering, squeezing him tightly within her walls in short, uncontrolled spasms, and just as she was teetering on the edge of something much bigger than before, something very promising, he would start moving again, changing the rhythm of his strokes and causing her to cry out both in pleasure and protest. Eventually, his pace quickened, returning to the point where he was pounding near-insensate inside her, and this time, Elissa was the first to shudder and let go.

Light danced and pulled at her eyes, forcing her to squeeze them shut and clench her teeth together as her body shook and trembled with orgasm. He finished moments after her, and this time, he pulled out almost immediately, examining her face closely. He seemed to like what he saw, for after satisfying himself that the expression on her face was one of weariness and bliss, he flopped down to enjoy his own, eyes half-shut with lazy satiation.

Elissa felt her breathing slow gradually, and she moved her fingers to wrap in his hair as soon as she had gathered up the strength to move her arms. Despite the fact that they seemed to have the consistency of jelly, she was able to pull his head to hers so that she could angle her lips with his in a indolent kiss. She let go after a moment.

She found herself lying boneless against Royland, her head resting on his chest as she listened to the slowing thump of his heart. She hummed a bit in contentment and adjusted herself into a slightly more comfortable position. She never remembered falling asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the Trash bin. This was a spur of the moment thing for these two. It's a plausible ship, honestly, but I'm still more of a Elissa and Gregor shipper. Plus, I'm more of a Royland and Malcolm Shipper. Also, this thing took seven months, so, I deserve a sigh of relief. There were also some others out there that wanted this and I obliged them instead of scrapping this— not that I would scrap it, I put too much of my time into it —Now, excuse me while I sink further into the trash can but also proceed to write more and more random couples.
> 
> Also, do forgive me for any messes, I'm not very good at writing Male POV Smut.


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